


Voltron Goretober 2017

by Llama_and_Lion



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Amputation, Arrows, Bandages, Blindness, Blood, Blood and Gore, Bloodbath, Branding, Broken Bones, Bruises, Crying, Eye Trauma, Food Issues, Goretober, Gunshot Wounds, Guts - Freeform, Hands, Hypothermia, Impaled, Infected, Knives, Mouth trauma, Multi, Nightmares, Nosebleed, Parasites, Rope/Wires, Scars, Stitches, beaten up, bitten, burned - Freeform, glass, hanahaki, scratches, spit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2017-10-07
Packaged: 2019-01-09 05:19:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12269697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama_and_Lion/pseuds/Llama_and_Lion
Summary: I really wanted to do one of the October challenges and I can't draw so here's this.All of your favorite paladins suffering.Tags and ships to be added





	1. List of Chapters

**Author's Note:**

> This is mostly a Chapter/Title page with all of the themes. I already have some planned but if you would like to suggest a character or prompt something you can leave a comment here :)

1\. Bruises - Keith  
2\. Scars - Shiro  
3\. Stitches - Lance  
4\. Nosebleed - Hunk  
5\. Scratches - Keith  
6\. Hanahaki - Coran  
7\. Spit + Blood - Pidge  
8\. Burned/Branded - Shiro  
9\. Blinded  
10\. Glass  
11\. Guts  
12\. Hypothermia  
13\. Knives  
14\. Eye Trauma  
15\. Mouth Trauma  
16\. Bitten  
17\. Infected  
18\. Gunshot  
19\. Arrows  
20\. Bloodbath  
21\. Amputated - Shiro (duh)  
22\. Impaled  
23\. Bandages  
24\. Nightmare  
25\. Crying  
26\. Beaten up  
27\. Rope/Wires  
28\. Food  
29\. Hands  
30\. Parasite  
31\. Broken Bones


	2. Bruises - Keith+Hunk

They really need to invest in some seatbelts for the lions, Hunk thinks, right before he crashes straight to the front of the red lion and into the control panel. The metal connects with his arm with a fierce slap before catapulting him in another direction as Red rolls over and over on the planet’s surface. He becomes vaguely aware of Keith flying past him and hears a sickening crack when he connects with the opposite wall. They are both thrown around in the cockpit for a few more moments, then with a final groan, the red lion shudders to a halt, sending two bodies careening forwards for the last time.

Hunk’s ears are still ringing, the sound of blood rushing through his ears as his heart races. His right thigh throbs painfully and it takes a few seconds for him to catch his breath after the winding experience. 

There’s a quiet groan from somewhere to his left. Hunk opens his eyes to find himself staring at the floor of the cockpit, the pilot's chair suspended from the now ceiling. No lights blink on the dashboard. He takes a deep breath and focuses on his neck and back, and when he's convinced that neither feels painful, he rolls slowly onto his side.

The red paladin has his back to him, but Hunk can see the way his shoulders shake subtly. Pushing himself up on his good arm, he crawls across the ‘floor’ towards Keith.

Keith is huddled over on his side, arms wrapped protectively around his middle and legs tucked up almost into a ball. Hunk places a hand gently on his available shoulder which elicits another groan from the small boy.

“Hey buddy, you okay?” Hunk asks, his tongue feels strange, he strains to think but can't remember whether or not he hit his head during the crash. There are a few moments of their heavy breathing in the silence before Keith manages to muffle out a reply.

“Th’nk I h-hit my head.” Hunk takes another deep breath to calm himself, he can’t panic even as their situation goes from bad to worse. The most part of the face guard is shattered, a few of the glass pieces scattered on the floor next to Keith's head, as well as a significant dent in the metal of the helmet near his left temple. Hunk tries not to think about the potential damage to Keith’s neck as he slips off the helmet in order to get a better look.

Around the area where the dent in the helmet a lump has already formed about the size and shape of a small egg. It’s a wicked deep purple colour and the webbing of the bruise travels across the fragile skin under his eyes which are turning a mottled red and green. What should the whites of his eye in Keith's left are flooded dark red with blood. There’s a deep cut on his lip and another purple bruise forming on his chin. Keith hisses when Hunk touches his face, screwing his eyes shut in pain.

“Sorry," Hunk apologises softly, stroking Keith’s dark hair off his forehead, his fingers come away covered in blood. He has to close his eyes and gently rest his head against Keith’s shoulder, breathing hard to calm his churning stomach.

“H’nk, 's everyth’ng okay?,” Keith’s words sound slurred, and he winces in pain again, holding his stomach and groaning. He takes one more deep breath to assure himself that he isn't about to be sick before sitting up.

“Yeah,” he says swallowing, “yeah it’s okay, I’m okay. Did you hit your stomach during the crash?” Hunk asks, fearing he already knows the answer. Keith grimaces, then nods, letting out a shuddering breath, clenching and unclenching his fists. Hunk’s gut clenches again, it's highly likely that Keith might be bleeding internally, _and if they don't get out of here soon and get Keith in a pod, especially with his concussion as well and being in no fit state to fly, and Red doesn't seem to be online anyway, will the others be able to find them? Will it be too late?_

Hunk is on the verge of panicking when the intercom crackles statically to life and Shiro’s voice sounds inside his helmet.

“Hunk, Keith, are you guys alright? Shiro asks, unable to keep the undertone of worry from his voice. Hunk could cry from relief, scratch that, he's already crying. Lowering himself onto the floor next to Keith, he carefully wraps one arm around the smaller paladin as he replies.

“We’re,” he pauses, “I’m okay, but I think Keith got hurt in the crash,” the red paladins lack of protest at this is enough to cause even Shiro some fleeting panic to surge in his chest, “and the Red lion is down, can you guys haul us back to the castle?” Hunk’s thigh begins to throb painfully again, and he presses his face into the back of Keith's neck as he listens to Shiro’s response, distantly drifting across the comms.

They’re going to be okay. They're going to be okay.


	3. Scars - Shiro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I'll write things less than 1000 words to make this manageable!  
> Also me: *makes this 1200+ words*

“But Shiro,” Coran wails, “ I really need to take off your shirt so that I can set the bones of your arm properly! If we were to pop you in the pods as you are now, while your arm would heal, it would heal at _that_ ,” he gestures wildly at Shiro’s arm, which is snapped in such a way that it looks like he has two elbows, “most unfortunate angle!" He finishes exasperated. The argument has already been going on for several minutes at this point, the other four paladins and Allura observing the interaction.

Shiro glares, causing the scar on his face to bunch up on the bridge of his nose.

“Can’t you just cut it up to where the break is?” Shiro asks, not trying to mask his annoyance. Frustrated Coran sighs, running a hand across his face.

“As I explained before, the under-suits are pressurised, and just cutting off the arm would cause an imbalance in the fabric, cutting off the blood supply to your arm which you would then risk losing!” He explains, hands on his hips and staring Shiro down. For a split second, something flashes across Shiro’s gaze, his eyes becoming unfocused, then snapping back to their previous hardened state.

“Alight,” he mutters then turns to the other paladins and addresses them along with the princess, “I want everybody out,” he says.

“But-” Pidge starts to protest but Shiro cuts her off almost immediately.

“This is not up for discussion. Everyone out.” He orders. There’s a slight hesitance to their movements, to begin with, but the four paladins shuffle out of the room and out of sight. Allura still stands where she was before, Shiro’s face burns. “Please?” He asks her, much less harshly. She opens her mouth as though about to say something, then closes it, and nods in understanding before leaving the room.

Coran sighs. He can't understand why Shiro has suddenly become so stubborn about receiving treatment for his injuries. Recently, Voltron’s leader has been more likely to hide or lie about any minor bumps and bruises obtained on a mission, preferring to treat himself without help. The behaviour is concerning, to say the least. 

Gently he pries Shiro’s arm away from his side where it is tucked away protectively. Shiro lets out an involuntary hiss turning his face away. Carefully, Coran slides the scissors under the material where it meets Shiro’s wrist and begins cutting away the fabric.

The fingers on Shiro’s left hand have turned a sickening dark purple colour that creeps up his arm as Coran exposes the skin to where the break is. The arm is bent at an unnatural angle and Coran can see where the bone is stretching parts of the skin it shouldn’t. He keeps cutting, working his way up to the collar. 

He doesn't notice it at first and has already cut the fabric up to the elbow before he sees the first one. The skin is pinched awkwardly in several places, creating indents in the muscle of Shiro’s lower arm. The skin around them is wrinkled and purple-green in colour, and have the appearance of stretch marks. _The look an awful lot like a healed bite wound from a Scalrara Beetle,_ Coran thinks, picturing the three-metre tall arthropod with its set of six fangs like pincers. There’s no time to ask as he needs to keep cutting the fabric to ensure the pressure doesn't change and end up constricting across Shiro’s shoulders.

On Shiro’s bicep, he uncovers a myriad of crisscrossed scars, the skin uneven and mottled with red where the healing process must have gone awry. His shoulder has a great chunk missing from it, the epidermis looks pale and fragile stretched across it. Half the suit falls away as Coran makes a final cut on the collar, fabric falling to reveal a great slash that starts at his collarbone and trails down across his chest and under the fabric still held up. He also spies a semicircular scar just below Shiro’s left pectoral muscle, the way that the skin is bunched up around it tells Coran that he doesn't need to look to see the point of exit on Shiro’s back. Quickly he cuts off the other arm, the fabric ends just over the prosthesis. 

Where whats left of Shiro’s arm meets the Galran prosthetic, the skin and muscle are bunched and folded into the metals end making the stump look uncomfortably tight and Coran can't tell if the discolouration is from the scarring or from the rubbing of metal on flesh.

Coran has to stop himself from inspecting the vast amount of scars that cover Shiro’s upper torso, focusing on the task to rest the bones in the black paladins left arm. 

He applies a numbing agent to the area before realigning he bones in Shiro’s arm, hoping to cause him the least amount of discomfort, then wraps a splint around it so that it won't move out of place. The whole time Shiro just looks over his right shoulder but his eyes are screwed shut. Coran notices that for the last few minutes his breathing has been fast and uneven, which he had attributed to the pain in his arm, except Shiro’s breathing is still too fast and shallow. 

Carefully resting Shiro’s broken arm on the bed next to him he takes Shiro’s face in his hands, who’s eyes snap open and stare vacantly at him.

“It’s alright Shiro, just breathe with me lad, in…and out, in…” Coran soothes, coaching Shiro’s breathing until it returns to a normal rate and his eyes are able to focus again. He leaves his side in order to retrieve one of the ‘hospital gown’ type shirts, coming back and draping it across Shiro’s shoulders, covering him up again.

“I’m sorry,” Shiro mutters, running his metal hand across his face in embarrassment. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Coran starts, placing one hand between Shiro’s shoulders and rubbing gently, “you know you don't have to feel embarrassed, the others won't think any less of you because you have these scars,” he watches Shiro’s face carefully, the other man staring into his lap.

“I know,” He says it so quietly that had he not been sitting next to him Coran probably wouldn't have heard him, “but I do,” he whispers weakly. Coran watches as Shiro digs his fingers into his thigh, Keith told him it was a grounding thing for Shiro and continues rubbing circles into his back.

“Sometimes it just doesn't feel like it’s my body,” he says finally, releasing his grip on his leg, letting the hand drop limply to his side.

“You don't have to hide this from the others, what you are feeling. All of us are here to help you, Shiro,” Coran starts but gets cut off.

“I don’t want to burden them,” he says. Coran’s face softens.

“Thats what being a part of a team is all about, you're there to carry one another when things get hard, and all of them would do that for you,” Coran assures, giving Shiro’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. Shiro looks about to protest, then stops and nods.

“I’ll think about it,” he says, and Coran smiles at him warmly. 

_Now, where is the recipe for that scar fading remedy?_


	4. Stitches - Lance

Shiro sits straddled across Lance’s back holding his arms down as firmly as possible without hurting him. Lance’s legs are held in place by Hunk, pinning him to the chilly cave floor by his knees and ankles whilst his face is buried in Pidge’s lap, his screams muffled by her thigh and Hunk’s headband which is clamped between his teeth.

They had been trying to contact the planets globalized government in order to negotiate a coalition between their vast and advanced army and Voltron. Allura and Coran had insisted that this race would be a necessary ally if they were going to stand a chance of beating the Galra, but they were wary people and suggested that approaching the capital city on foot would be the best way to appear non-threatening. They were to land the green lion a few days hike from the city, and use Green’s cloaking device to keep her hidden while they engaged in negotiations. However, the raging magnetic storms in the planets upper atmosphere would mean that the paladins would be unable to contact the castleship while they were on-world. So the aim was that they would have ten days to complete their mission before Allura and Coran came after them. 

It was almost a foolproof plan, especially as Coran assured them that the Dolovians had always pledged their allegiance to Altea before the war, and they had always been a nation to respect history and loyalty. Almost foolproof.

The ice shelf had split open without warning, only about half a foot wide, but enough that Lance’s leg had fallen into the crack and a sharp rock embedded in the ice sliced deep into the back of his thigh. They were already two days out from their lions and another two from the city, only, they didn't have two days, not when Lance’s leg wouldn’t stop bleeding. 

Even with Hunk and Shirt supporting him on either side, by the time they reached the small cave he was already worryingly pale and clammy despite the cold.

Keith had hoped that Lance would be too out of it to feel anything, but the second the needle pierced his skin, his whole body had tensed up and he had let out a cry. Pidge did what little she could to soothe him, muttering reassuring words and stroking his hair, but it probably did little to ground him.

The cut was deep and ragged and reached from halfway down Lance’s thigh to the top of his knee, blood still oozed from the wound, even though they had washed away most of the blood. Keith knew in order to close the gash he was going to have to make the sutures deep, the best way to stop or at least slow the bleeding and hold Lance together until they could get somewhere with more advanced medical supplies than the first aid kit they had been forward-thinking enough to bring with them. 

So that's what he did. Breathing deeply he sunk the needle through skin and muscle, turning it and bringing it out on the other side of the wound before pulling the flesh together, the stitches were far from neat. Each time Lance would cry out and Hunk would have to hold his legs tight to stop them from shaking or jerking the needle which would only make things worse. 

With each stitch, blood would well up around the wound and soon Keith’s hands were slick with red and he was still only three-quarters of the way done. He stared at the ragged gash and then at his hands. They were shaking and his breaths were coming fast and shallow. Lance had lost so much blood already, _what if he was making it worse? What if it was his fault they might not save Lance?_

“Hey Keith,” a voice pulled him from his panic, raising his head to meet Shiro’s eyes, “just breathe Keith, you can do this,” he says calmly and Keith sucks in a deep breath of the cold air, somehow manages to get his shaking hands under control. He has to fight to ignore Lance’s pleas for it to stop as he finishes closing up the cut.

It feels like an eternity to finish, but finally, he ties up the last stitch and rocks back on his heels. Pidge whispers something to Lance that sounds like, ‘ _It’s done, it’s over now. You’re okay’,_ and Lance dissolves into quiet sobbing. 

Keith is so out of it he doesn't notice Shiro move towards him until he is being wrapped up in a hug, his face pressed into the larger man's shoulder. Keith’s own hands don’t move from his sides, still covered in Lance's blood.

“Good job Keith, I’m proud of you,” Shiro tells him quietly, and Keith is glad his face is hidden so no one can see the dampness in his eyes. Shiro pulls away to grab a hydration pack to wash the blood off Keith’s hands. Over the black paladins shoulder he sees that Hunk has pulled Lance up into his lap, a bandage has been wrapped around Lance’s thigh and both he and Pidge are trying to rub the warmth back into his arms and coaxing him to drink some water.

Once Keith is cleaned up, he and Shiro slot in around the garrison trio. Shiro helps by getting Lance to sit up some more and rubs circles into his back. Keith shuffles into the space between Pidge and Hunk, letting their presence surround and calm him. He squeezes one of Lance’s hands between his.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers quietly, though Pidge gives him an incredulous look and bumps his shoulder softly, he doesn't break eye contact with Lance. The blue paladin just gives him a weak smile, all he can muster in his drained state.

“S’okay, man,” he mutters, squeezing Keith’s hand back before closing his eyes and resting his head against Hunk’s chest. Keith feels the worry dissipate from his chest for a moment, what they need to do next can wait a couple of vargas. For now, at least, they can huddle together a while and rest easy, all of them safe in each other's arms.


End file.
